


Dance To The Plastic Beat

by ruiseu, topkyungsoo



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: A bit of drama, Ambiguous Relationships, Angst, Bottom Kim Jongin | Kai, Eventual Smut, M/M, Possible Geographical Inaccuracies, Strangers In A Foreign Country, Top Do Kyungsoo | D.O, ambiguous ending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-22
Updated: 2021-01-22
Packaged: 2021-03-14 07:00:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,021
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28916499
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ruiseu/pseuds/ruiseu, https://archiveofourown.org/users/topkyungsoo/pseuds/topkyungsoo
Summary: Kyungsoo meets a stranger in the wide pulse of Shibuya.[ For top!soo fest round 4: Song/Album AU ]
Relationships: Do Kyungsoo | D.O/Kim Jongin | Kai
Comments: 26
Kudos: 44
Collections: top!soo fest: round 4 (2020-2021)





	Dance To The Plastic Beat

There’s a reason why Kyungsoo didn’t opt to board with his friend in the center of Shibuya. Even though it would make his clipped routine a little bit more convenient, he still wouldn’t trade the quiet and comfort the upmarket district he lives in has to offer. He’s been through the busiest crossing once, had stumbled by the end of the lane, and sworn he wouldn’t dare go through it again even if his life depended on it.

“Shall I go get more drinks?” Woobin, his friend, shouts over the noise.

Kyungsoo shakes his head. “I’m good.”

But Woobin never listens, so he’s off to his bartender friend to get some more Flaviars. If he had _actually_ listened, he would know to get a Manhattan for Kyungsoo instead.

The throbbing bass, neon strobe lights, and energetic horde make the nightlife in Shibuya exemplary, even for a non-partygoer like Kyungsoo. Gleam after gleam, like a myriad of colorful specks around steel and concrete. It’s loud and bright and rowdy, but it isn’t really something he would name as trashy. Kyungsoo likes how he can easily camouflage among the crowd without having to feel like a complete outcast.

This is just one of the many reasons, apart from the fact that living with Woobin means having to take care of his tall gawky ass 24/7— Kyungsoo knows he would be dragged to the nightlife on a daily basis if he’d chosen to live in the city. Kyungsoo had come here to work firstly, and having to thrive in the ever-competent environment of Japanese universities means having less to no time of fooling around.

“Come on, drink up!” Woobin returns, a goofy smile on his face and alcohol in each hand. “You’re gonna miss me, Soo!”

Kyungsoo looks at the drink in disdain but takes it anyway, consuming it in one go. “It’s not like you’re emigrating or something.”

His friend laughs. “You should come with. I heard Mihonoseki is really beautiful.”

Kyungsoo could only sigh. He wants to, he really does— visit the hot springs in Kinosaki, take a bike ride along Shimanami Kaido, and all the good soul-searching jazz he had especially set aside in his itinerary— he’s planted them all on a whole page of his bullet journal before he came here, but work had been hell and he couldn’t just leave the remaining paperwork behind. Kyungsoo simply shrugs the whole ordeal off.

“I know. Next time, I will,” He then smiles. “Have fun on your trip, Woobin.”

Kyungsoo emerges from the bathroom later after a quick wash to his face. The effects of alcohol are slowly depleting him, making his head fuzzy and his steps unstable. He’s always been a lightweight. Woobin shouldn’t have suggested the club if he hadn’t planned on sticking by Kyungsoo’s side the whole night because now, the tall creature is nowhere to be found. Despite that, Kyungsoo preens on the confidence of still being able to make his way through the stairs and the cluster of intimidating bodyguards.

Kyungsoo arrives at their table stumbling on his toes. Woobin is wealthy, a bit extravagant, so securing this private booth hadn’t been much of a fuss. It’s just another regular transaction among his tech purchases and the latest designer collections.

But _now_ he can actually feel the walls starting to spin— and the thing with Kyungsoo’s alcohol score is it’s either all or nothing— survive or pass out, there’s almost no in between. At his current state, Kyungsoo is navigating through spat limes and cigarette butts for water, all the while feeling overwhelmingly dizzy. When he finally takes hold of the glass, he drinks it all in fervor.

A few seconds later, as the aftertaste starts to rise from his throat, Kyungsoo realizes that— weirdly enough— it tastes bitter, and water isn’t supposed to be bitter, it isn’t supposed to taste like anything. It takes him a few seconds more to realize that he’d drunk from another random glass of alcohol instead.

 _Fuck this_. Kyungsoo grumbles, throwing his head back. He takes a deep breath, trying to stop himself from actually going into a state of defiance. The disco lights are starting to brew into one big blur of greens and reds and yellows, and the nostalgic melody of a city pop song turns into some faint lullaby, strangely being tucked into his consciousness like it’s supposed to be there.

_Don’t mess up the program of love  
With your sudden kiss and fiery stare  
I cleverly plan every hello and goodbye  
Because everything comes to an end  
Don’t hurry!_

When Kyungsoo is about to dip into slumber, a group of young men arrive, stopping and hovering near his booth. They’re overlooking the whole dance floor, talking and laughing animatedly by the railings. Kyungsoo couldn’t see their faces well through the haze, but he hears unmistakable _Korean_ conversation, and his ears instantly perk up.

He feels a sudden wave of excitement over stumbling into his fellow countrymen in the wide pulse of Shibuya. Kyungsoo wants to tune into them so badly, maybe say hi even, but sobriety is too far out of his reach at the moment and he only ends up watching them from a distance.

What pulls Kyungsoo into a vivid pause though— is one of the men staring straight back at him. He straightens. Kyungsoo’s mind is already floating and the same song is gatekeeping him into a lull. It doesn’t help that he’s squinting hard like a mad puppy just to get a clear face.

As if on a painstaking cue, the guy’s features come into high definition, getting more and more focused by the second. Suddenly, it’s like a transient high, and Kyungsoo has to hide back his fascination. Plump lips, heavy eyes, high cheekbones, sun-kissed skin, and a tall and lean frame— he wonders if this stranger was some sort of model or an ulzzang, maybe a celebrity even. The man is beautiful in its most unadulterated sense. Kyungsoo is already flustered with the way the stranger is looking back; intense and amused with a ghost of a smile on his mouth.

But as Kyungsoo tries to muster up courage for the slightest interaction, his mind takes him farther and farther, the alcohol in his system dragging him everywhere and nowhere all at once. Soon enough, the sleepiness is already taking him in, and the last thing he sees before completely passing out is the pretty stranger’s face, worried, as he takes a careful step toward Kyungsoo. 

Kyungsoo considers this as a gift; some sort of compensation for his flimsy tolerance. Even if he passes out after drinking, he still gets to remember every single detail— quite like a physical black out more than a mental one. His memories never fail him, and he’s thankful for that at least. 

Waking up alone in Woobin’s flat isn’t surprising anymore, as he can still remember barely being able to stand at 4am, his tall friend having to drag him outside the discotheque and into a cab going home. Kyungsoo sits up at the memory and instantly regrets doing so, because the hangover is nagging to no end and he already feels like shit. 

He hopes Woobin hasn’t changed a single placement in the kitchen. Kyungsoo can still remember where the meds are, and he makes a beeline for it in his groggy state. Once he finds the aspirin, he swallows it down with a glass of water.

Shibuya might be dense and busy, but something about the morning urban panorama makes Kyungsoo appreciate the city nonetheless. Woobin’s interior is bright and sleek, and the little glimpses of sunlight that peek through his blinders are adorning the white walls like pantone on a blank canvas.

And because his friend is the type to leave his spare key on the counter and stick-on notes on the fridge, Kyungsoo eventually finds a recent one, Woobin’s long and haphazard handwriting saying he needs to do a lot of last-minute errands before leaving for his trip. _Alright, good luck_. Kyungsoo decides that going for a long shower is the next best thing to do on a hungover morning.

For some odd reason, Kim Woobin is over-sentimental to the point of still keeping his old clothes (the ones where he’s still in his pre-modelling era), but Kyungsoo has nothing to complain. Instead, he takes this as a chance to dress like a catalogue model in the budding streets of Japan.

It’s the weekend and he’s got nothing much to do. Kyungsoo had already finished proof-reading the research material his students handed over the past week. He still doesn’t want to go back to his own lonely apartment, but at the same time he also doesn’t want to stray too far from home. 

He settles going down to Ivy Place for a quick brunch, and ultimately decides to spend the whole day in his own neighborhood. Kyungsoo is lucky enough to land a place in Daikanyama— a small district famously branded as the “Brooklyn of Tokyo”. It’s a stone throw away from Shibuya, but it holds a very stark contrast from the relentless urban hustle. Kyungsoo loves the harmony of tree-lined streets and low-rise commercial buildings, the blend of comfort and modernity, and the fact that his daily living remains peaceful despite being surrounded by the busiest cities in Japan. 

Kyungsoo has initially planned spending half of the day reading books and drinking coffee in T-Site, but while strolling down one of the most cultured streets in the metropolis he’s again captivated by the modish displays along the way. Unavoidably, he stops by one of his favorite shops in the area.

The streets of Bonjour Records are no less chic, and the shop itself holds a multitude of books, music and French clothing selection- the very reason why Kyungsoo couldn’t get enough no matter how many times he drops by. The signature coffee might be a bit expensive, but the taste is undeniably fair for its price.

It’s quiet and spacey, almost strangely nostalgic, like an old record store in the quiescent suburban. The wide ceiling is complimented by wooden designs over white walls, a few black accents giving the place a subtle minimal look. Kyungsoo browses through the music section, wondering if he should get the Radiohead LP for Chanyeol or save it for their next Japan trip. As he lets his fingers carelessly sift through the countless records, he doesn’t notice another hand reaching for the same 90’s R&B title at the exact moment as his.

Kyungsoo flusters at the sudden contact, immediately giving a small bow. “ _Sumimasen_.”

When he hears no response, he looks up to see a strangely familiar face staring back at him in surprise. Kyungsoo thinks it must be awful because he _swears_ he’s seen this man before— the same heavy eyes, the same pouty lips and the same cocky eyebrow—

— and it’s when Kyungsoo remembers that indeed, he has this conscious skill of keeping his memories intact in the heigh of intoxication, that he finally places an eponym on the familiar stranger. What are the fucking odds. He’s the attractive guy from the club last night, the very last thing Kyungsoo had seen before passing out, and he’s _Korean_.

“ _Daijobou desu_.” The pretty stranger smiles shyly.

Oh. Kyungsoo has this sudden itch that somehow, he needs to let this man know he’s heard him talking last night, the syllables of their mother tongue clear as daylight. It pushes Kyungsoo to settle for the limited and clipped Japanese he’s crammed in 6 months just to pose the breaking question.

“ _Are you Korean?_ ”

Now the cocky eyebrows finally rise up, the mysterious facade breaking into an expression of disbelief. Pretty stranger blinks. Kyungsoo thinks he’s cute like this, like a child receiving surprises on Christmas day.

“Yeah, I am,” The man breathes out in full Korean, and Kyungsoo thinks it’s refreshing to hear another native speaker in an arm’s length. “And you..?”

“100%,” Kyungsoo says, extending a hand. “Hey, I’m Kyungsoo.”

But said stranger doesn’t take it, simply responding with a small bow and an obscure smile on his lips. “Nice to meet you, Kyungsoo. I’m Jongin.”

Kyungsoo awkwardly grins and pulls his hand back, still struck at the very awkward greeting. Maybe _Jongin_ isn’t used to this culture. Maybe Kyungsoo’s just too excited that he might’ve ended up invading a personal space. Well goddamn, he certainly hadn’t planned on making himself look like a fool.

Before Kyungsoo can take his crippling thoughts higher, Jongin suddenly clears his throat, handsome face devoid of any discomfort and inconvenience.

“So, En Vogue, huh?”

Kyungsoo doesn’t know how a single question about an R&B group has led them here, in the heart of Tsutaya, reading books and exchanging hushed conversations in front of the massive windows that overlook the busy metropolis.

“Kyungsoo, what are you reading?”

” _Please Look After Mom_.”

30 minutes in and Kyungsoo still hasn’t mingled with the dynamics of— technically— this stranger. It’s not like he expects Jongin to become an instant companion, it’s more of the fact that Kyungsoo can’t figure out the outline of Jongin’s persona. By now he’s supposed to have some sort of first impression, but Kyungsoo still couldn’t form a single opinion. Maybe it’s just the weird comfort of being with a fellow Korean that excuses the animosity, or maybe it’s the warm presence that comes with it.

Jongin stares at the cover. “It’s in English, though.”

“I know,” Kyungsoo smiles. “Reading it for more practice.”

“ _More_ practice? You’re an English student?”

“I’m an English teacher.”

The wonder in Jongin’s face is overtly blinding that Kyungsoo couldn’t help but feel embarrassed. He fumbles with the pages, feeling too conscious from the way Jongin is looking at him- like a rare gemstone in the night.

“That’s amazing,” is all the taller says before eventually going back to his own book, drowning in stillness and concentration.

The Starbucks in T-Site is neatly situated in the thick of the neo-modernist architecture, the influence of floor-to-ceiling glass windows from the main building cementing with the cozy interior of the house brand. The sheen and luster always pull Kyungsoo into a state of awe. He thinks he couldn’t get any luckier with this small, enigmatic neighborhood.

He wonders if Daikanyama is as enigmatic as Jongin, who’d just arrived with his own latte and Kyungsoo’s watermelon passion tea. The taller sits across him and wordlessly gives Kyungsoo his drink, seemingly unfazed but still closed off, like an incessant stranger but not really so. Jongin, he observes, is quiet but inquisitive. Fickle but pure. Aloof but warm. 

And Jongin is hot— even with the stupidly adorable bear pull-over tucked inside those dangerously tight jeans. It doesn’t help that along with his alluring height, he has amazing body proportions to match, and there’s something about his furtiveness that stands out even in the most ordinary of times.

“You’re so handsome.”

Kyungsoo almost chokes on his drink. “What?”

“I said you’re so handsome,” Jongin simply tells him, eyes holding so much depth. Kyungsoo couldn’t stop his cheeks from burning.

“I-um, thank you. You are too.”

The compliment had abruptly come out of nowhere, and so does the silence that follows it. Kyungsoo is still not used to the fluctuating personality and the musings. It’s like Jongin is a concept he couldn’t grasp entirely, but Kyungsoo chooses to do it anyway— there’s something about the man that’s just so beguiling.

“You said you’re an English teacher, right?” Jongin speaks up, finally putting his phone aside.

“Yeah.”

“So how long have you been working here?”

“About 4 months. I’m already on the last hit before finals,” Kyungsoo tepidly rolls the long sleeves of his cotton shirt. “After that I’ll be going back to Seoul. This is just one of those offshore teaching programs I willingly took for experience and credentials.”

The taller nods, attentive. “That’s really cool. I wish I could still have the passion to take up CPD courses in the future.”

Kyungsoo doesn’t miss the way Jongin keenly rakes his eyes along the length of his exposed arm, gaze heavy and fixated. It takes a second and an afterthought before Jongin forces himself to look away. Kyungsoo then decides to ask a question.

“How about you? Are you working here as well?”

“No. I’m on a vacation with my cousins,” Jongin plays with his straw. “I just so happen to like Daikanyama very much. I like going here by myself. I’m still a post-grad student taking up Korean Music on my 1st year, so I have to be back in Seoul by the start of the term.”

This is definitely the longest Jongin has ever spoken about anything, most especially about himself. Kyungsoo takes this with reservation. He finishes his passion tea while considering a lot of ways to approach the younger— though Kyungsoo knows the only way he could do that is to be straightforward the same way Jongin is, both in yielding and in receiving.

A female barista rings the bell, brunch special in hand while looking for a certain “Mark” among the roster of customers. It seems like the order has not yet been claimed. A few people look her way, but no one seems to get a hint of recognition. A group of office employees arrive in the café, gossiping and heading straight towards the counter.

“Jongin.”

“Hm?”

Kyungsoo bites on his tongue, nerves tingling with the words he’s about to say. “When we both get back to Korea, do you think we can meet up and spend some time together?”

Jongin doesn’t meet his eye, and it’s the way he’s so calculable and erratic at the same time that Kyungsoo feels all he’s ever said and done were nothing but callous. He waits, feeling like time had stretched the longest just for this moment, like his senses have gone along with the passing seconds. Still, Kyungsoo relents. After what had felt like a lifetime, Jongin finally answers.

“No.”

The silence that surrounds them is deafening, anchoring Kyungsoo into some sort of pedestal that’s hardly ever uplifting. He doesn’t know when the air had started to get dry, or why his mouth is suddenly faltering. All he knows is that the same barista is ringing the bell again, buttermilk biscuits and teriyaki sandwich probably gone cold by now, and this Mark person is still nowhere to be found.

“Do you have a boyfriend?”

Kyungsoo turns to the younger, who is as nonchalant as ever. It’s strange, really. They could’ve easily parted ways if they wanted to, seeing as how Jongin doesn’t have plans to take this further— whatever it is they have. Two strangers spending a whole day together in a foreign land. It’s almost bizarre enough.

But Jongin is still here, eating light dinner and sipping beer at the back row with Kyungsoo in NOMAD— one of those popular resto-bars in the district that play live jazz, electronica and acoustic all week. It’s small and intimate, but effortlessly vibrant. The elder hadn’t expected Jongin to tag along, especially after _the_ conversation.

“No.”

“Girlfriend?”

Kyungsoo shakes his head.

Then Jongin goes back to his own bubble, as always, drinking and lightly swaying along to the performance. Kyungsoo thinks the stage and floor lights reflect on Jongin’s face prettily, making him glow with the cozy atmosphere. The shadows also bring out his features wondrously. And because Kyungsoo is relentless as ever, he decides to push all reluctance aside, throwing the question back to the younger.

“How about you?”

Jongin looks back at him, as if trying to figure out what he means. To Kyungsoo’s surprise, the younger fields the question with a shrug. 

“I used to. We broke up not long after graduating uni. Said he liked to focus more on his career. Months later, I saw him with a new guy,” Jongin smiles, a sad one. “I guess I can’t do anything about it.”

Kyungsoo doesn’t respond. He thinks he should already stop with the questions, because everytime he throws one it always puts them in a compromising air. Maybe Jongin will always be a conundrum Kyungsoo would die trying to solve-— elusive, unreadable. Almost impossible.

The band is still playing, and the female singer starts stepping down the stage to sing around the audience. This is the first time the performers have ever been interactive with the crowd, but nonetheless it’s still enjoyable. Jongin is grinning, eyes twinkling and hands softly clapping along to the music. Now that Kyungsoo is listening intently, it feels strange that he could instantly recognize the song. It feels like he’s heard it a thousand times before, even knowing that this isn’t the original but a pop-jazz cover. 

_Ever since the day love hurt me  
My days and nights have been reversed  
At the flashy discotheque, dancing the night away  
It’s the trick I learned  
I’m sorry!_

The performance ends, but Kyungsoo is astounded to see the female singer standing right in front of him.

“ _Good evening to a patron of ours!_ ” She exclaims in Japanese, out of breath but still smiling. “ _We’d like to go on with our night by being more festive, and getting to know our customers would be a great start. How would you like to join the stage and sing for us, sir?_ ”

Kyungsoo is panicking; his heart is thumping loudly against his chest. He really doesn’t like standing out among crowds, let alone being in front of one, so he tries his best to politely decline the offer. Moreover, he doesn’t even know if his singing can do a _decent_ number. But the spotlight is now turned towards him, and the whole audience is chanting for him to get on the stage. Jongin is laughing, chanting along and looking at him with an encouraging smile.

Kyungsoo falters. By now it would be more embarrassing-— and rude-— to turn everyone down, so he decides to take the mic and shyly make his way to the stage. The audience excitedly cheers. 

He decides on a classic R&B hit by Mario because it’s the most recent song he’s listened to and he’s too nervous to sift through his mental playlist. The band is tuning up to get the right chords, and they start to play just as Kyungsoo is singing the first line.

He’s really trying to focus and just get on with the performance, but Kyungsoo won’t deny that he’s enjoying it a little more than he’d expected to, and that he might have also missed singing in front a crowd like he’d used to in his university days. He appreciates that the audience is quiet and simply listening in earnest. He casts a glance towards Jongin, who is watching him with an expression Kyungsoo isn’t sure what to make of.

By the end of it, everyone in the room erupts into elated claps, even the band members and the lead singer. Kyungsoo is flustered, but very (quietly) proud of himself, and he expresses his gratitude with a deep bow.

When he returns to their table Jongin is greeting him with a smile, but what catches Kyungsoo offguard is the fact that he can actually see the younger _blushing_.

“You have a nice voice. I really like it.”

It’s all Jongin has to say before he starts averting Kyungsoo’s gaze, cushioning the moment by indulging in his own phone and drink. Occasionally, Jongin would go back to enjoying the live band, but apart from that he wouldn’t look back in the elder’s way. Kyungsoo concedes. As he is still recovering from the high of performing on stage, he also doesn’t know what to do with this information.

Like a spell dwindling down at the peak of the night, Kyungsoo gets reminded that such magic could only last for so long, and that this would probably be the beginning of their end. 

The last 20 something hours had felt like an odd reverie. Being with Jongin feels like he’s always on borrowed time. Rubber soles against concrete, they’re walking along the famous array of boutiques; leaves rustling with the evening breeze at the top of their heads. The stars are burning extra radiant tonight. Jongin still hasn’t said anything, and Kyungsoo feels like he should do _something_ to draw the line.

“Jongin,”

The younger finally looks at him, but this time, Kyungsoo is faced with a mask of uncertainty.

“I’m going home now; my apartment is just around the corner,” He fumbles. “Do you need me to get you a cab? I can also walk you to the station if you like.”

It’s funny how in these fleeting seconds, Kyungsoo has seen the most out of Jongin than he’s ever had in the past hours. The latter is still standing there, looking hesitant and so unsure; of what exactly, Kyungsoo doesn’t know. He probably never will. The night isn’t getting any younger, and Kyungsoo is growing more antsy by the minute. In what had seemed like forever, the elder is surprised when Jongin slowly latches onto his arm, eyes pleading and lips underlining every syllable out of his mouth.

“Can I go to your place?”

Everything has been a blur. The moment the elder had taken Jongin’s hand in is, trudging through dark alleys and narrow corners, a bit lost but very much alive, everything had faded into thin air.

It’s still a blur, because the very second Kyungsoo closes his apartment door Jongin is already on him, soft lips pressed against his own. 

Kyungsoo doesn’t waste time, slipping his tongue inside the warmth of Jongin’s mouth. It’s hot and sloppy, the younger tasting of beer and a hint of mint. If anything, it’s making Kyungsoo want to indulge more, and he pushes himself even closer as Jongin’s grip on his arms get tighter.

He aims for Jongin’s neck, biting and sucking on the sensitive skin until it turns a faint purple. Jongin moans, and Kyungsoo can feel his cock twitch in his pants. His hands fall down from gripping the younger’s waist, slowly making their way to the crotch area to palm Jongin’s erection. The latter lets out a whine and helplessly grinds against Kyungsoo’s hand.

“Please, Kyungsoo— bed. Now.”

Breaking out of their clothes hasn’t been easy, because Kyungsoo couldn’t stop kissing and Jongin couldn’t stop touching. They land on the elder’s bed with a clumsy thud, both stark naked, and Jongin is chuckling while getting comfortable on his back. Kyungsoo hovers over him, eyes consuming every inch of Jongin’s golden skin-— every tautness of his muscles, every curve of his body. He’s completely mesmerized. Jongin is downright beautiful.

“You’re gorgeous.”

Jongin blushes when he hears the compliment, but instead of shying away like he usually does, he reaches for Kyungsoo and plants a kiss on his lips.

“Thanks. You’re beautiful, too.”

And because Kyungsoo couldn’t help it, he goes back to planting kisses on the younger-— on his lips, down to his neck, and all over the expanse of his body. Jongin trembles when Kyungsoo sucks on a nipple, his hands lost in the elder’s hair as he pulls him even closer. Their crotches imminently meet at their proximity, making Kyungsoo curse when he sees his own cock touching Jongin’s hard one, slick and already leaking with pre-cum.

”Soo, _please_ ,” Jongin is practically whining at this point, his slim hips moving up to meet Kyungsoo’s. “Need you inside.”

The latter assures him with a peck, whispering “Wait for me” as he goes to fetch some condoms and lube. When Kyungsoo gets back, he is greeted by the sight of Jongin touching and fingering himself, and he almost loses it when he sees the younger already two fingers deep.

“Let me help you, baby.” Kyungsoo coats three of his fingers, positioning himself in front of Jongin’s ass. The latter blushes again at the pet name, sitting up and getting comfortable as he waits.

Kyungsoo starts with two right away, feeling and stretching the warm walls of the younger. It’s tight, and it’s making his dick swell even more. Jongin sighs at the feeling of Kyungsoo’s fingers stretching him, encouraging the latter to add one last finger.

When Kyungsoo inserts the third one, he waits for Jongin to relax before scissoring the younger again. Jongin is already biting his lip after a few minutes of stretching. “Kyungsoo, I’m- inside now, please,” he says between moans. Kyungsoo goes heady at the request, and he slowly pulls his fingers out to put on a condom and lather his cock with lube.

Grabbing his dick, Kyungsoo pushes it inside Jongin, while his other hand is placed on top of the latter’s knee. The younger’s muscles clamp around him, tight and warm and wet, and Kyungsoo feels like he could come and pass out any second from the immense pleasure. “Shit,” He bottoms out, calming himself while waiting for Jongin to adjust.

Jongin flinches. There’s a slight burn, but nothing he couldn’t handle if he just waits it out. He couldn’t help it, he didn’t expect Kyungsoo to be _hung_. The elder's hand on his knees helps a little bit, rubbing soft and soothing circles on his skin. Jongin takes his time. When he finally gets used to the girth, he tells Kyungsoo to start moving.

It's slow and steady at first; Kyungsoo wanting to make sure the pleasure reaches Jongin just the same. The younger is mostly quiet, breathing a bit labored against Kyungsoo's neck. It's not until a few minutes and a number of experimental thrusts later that Jongin visibly shakes, voice drawing out to a surprised moan.

“Ah, fuck, Kyungsoo…right _there_.”

Kyungsoo quickens the pace, ramming into the same spot over and over again until Jongin becomes a panting mess below him. He is literally hooked to the elder; long legs wrapped around his waist and arms holding on to his back for support. 

Jongin is nearly breathless. He receives every thrust with his mouth hanging open, glassy eyes threatening to close from the amount of pleasure he is feeling. It’s euphoric. Kyungsoo looks down and sees Jongin’s cock between their two bodies, red tip leaking and crying out to be touched. Kyungsoo moans at the sight, and an idea suddenly springs into his mind.

He pulls out of Jongin, who is whimpering at the loss, and flips him to his stomach so that his ass is against the elder’s dick. Jongin might be taller, but he’s light and lithe and easy to handle. Kyungsoo is supporting him and caging him at the same time, keeping both of Jongin’s arms at the back and holding him in that position. This way, the younger couldn’t touch anything unless Kyungsoo wants him to do so.

“Jongin,” Kyungsoo breathes into Jongin’s ear, slowly pushing his dick back inside the hole. “You’re going to come untouched tonight.”

Jongin moans and frantically nods at the elder’s words. He doesn’t care if he’s begging at this point. He just wants to be good for Kyungsoo. “Yes. Please.”

The room is filled with the sound of skin against skin, words turning incoherent until they’re stretched out into moans, and Kyungsoo’s hard cock going in and out of Jongin’s ass. There’s a lot going on inside the elder’s mind, and while there is _one_ thing he’s always wanted to try, he wants to test out the waters first to avoid scaring the younger.

Kyungsoo’s free hand climbs up Jongin’s back until it finds its way over his broad shoulders. Slowly, and shakily, he wraps his fingers around Jongin’s neck, grip firm but not harmful, just enough to put emphasis and hopefully get the message across.

“Is this okay?” Kyungsoo whispers.

“Oh god, Kyungsoo-“ Jongin couldn’t trust himself to speak anymore while still receiving the elder’s cock, so he nods again instead.

As Kyungsoo’s thrusts get erratic, the pressure against Jongin’s neck increases. He grips it, hard, just enough to feel his fingers dent around the skin, but not too much to the point of restricting the airway. He isn’t going for that, yet. He doesn’t want to risk Jongin getting potentially harmed by him.

Jongin chokes out a sob. At the bedside table there is Kyungsoo’s mirror facing them, and the latter couldn’t take his gaze away from the erotic display on the reflection- him fucking and choking the younger from behind, Jongin’s head being thrown back; eyes half-closed with tears coming out. His lips are parted, and his chest is glistening with a mix of sweat and drool. Everything is too dirty, but Jongin looks completely lost and blissed out that his moans are slowly turning into dry cries. Kyungsoo takes pride in knowing he’s caused all this, his cock twitching and growing even harder inside Jongin at the thought.

Chasing his orgasm, Kyungsoo rides with the build-up and senses he’s about to come soon. His thrusts are getting incalculable now, but he compensates for it by pushing hard into Jongin’s ass until he’s balls deep and the bed shakes from the impact. He closes his fingers around the younger’s neck once again, this time adding more pressure than the first, all the while making sure his cock is hitting the spot with every second Jongin feels like he couldn’t breathe. Kyungsoo grunts, feeling the latter clench around him even harder, and after a few seconds Jongin is shaking and coming with a loud cry.

Kyungsoo can see Jongin’s cum all over his sheets. Through the mirror, he sees it staining the younger’s own stomach and thighs, the clear color painting a stark contrast against Jongin’s beautiful skin. Kyungsoo curses at the sight. Trailing after a few more thrusts, he lets go of the younger and pulls out, exploding on his ass and adding more streaks of white to the expanse of olive of Jongin’s body.

They’re both out of breath, clinging on to the last strands of ecstasy before the high fades and sleep would inevitably take over. Kyungsoo is tired, his body feeling sore and heavier than ever, but he has to throw the condom and get towels to clean the both of them. He wipes their bodies before the cum gets too dry, and Jongin sighs, silently appreciating the gesture.

Kyungsoo disposes of everything. The sheets will cost him another day’s worth of allowance at the cleaners, but he couldn’t even pretend that he cares one bit. He slides next to the younger who’s been catching his breath for the past few minutes and gently props him on the pillows. Kyungsoo lies beside him, covering their naked bodies with the comforter.

“Soo...” Jongin drawls out, voice hoarse and coated with drowsiness. He’s running out of strength to move a single muscle on his body.

Kyungsoo shushes him gently, appreciating the man’s face in full view. Jongin looks even more beautiful like this— soft strands of hair falling over his eyes, lashes fluttering prettily, and his mouth pressed into a pout-like shape. He looks serene. The elder couldn’t stop himself from caressing a cheek.

“Sleep, Jongin.”

And so Jongin does, a soft smile mooning over his features as he falls into deep slumber. Kyungsoo follows suit, the younger’s steady breathing calming his own, lulling him into a state of tranquility that’s long overdue. Just like that, Kyungsoo’s chest rises and falls to the peace and quiet, and the apartment suddenly doesn’t feel lonely anymore.

Memories never fail Kyungsoo. Even with the poison of alcohol or the dead age of time he would still remember if he’d royally fucked up at one point. His consciousness has always done it for him, Kyungsoo realizes this overtime, because he’s always been a careful man whose relentlessness could sometimes get the best of him.

Kyungsoo deems the past 24 hours to be a fever dream. The man he’d seen at the discotheque was already a remote shadow from the one he closely held the previous night. The Jongin he’d met on a record shop was aloof. Jongin in Tatsuya was silent. Jongin in NOMAD was still closed off. The Jongin that’s used to be stuck with him is someone who wouldn’t even shake Kyungsoo’s hand or meet him again in Seoul.

But the Jongin now is here in the shower, sucking Kyungsoo’s cock dry while his knees turn red from the hard tiled floors. The younger wraps his tongue around the shaft, licking eagerly, and he’s bobbing his head up and down trying to take in whatever length he could get. Kyungsoo sighs, running a hand through Jongin’s hair and sliding it down on his nape, encouraging him to do more.

The water is warm, his dick is warm, and Jongin’s mouth around him feels even warmer. Jongin loves the way Kyungsoo’s cock would stretch his lips wide, and everytime he moans it would send vibrations along Kyungsoo’s dick, making the latter shiver in response.

“Fuck,” Kyungsoo hisses when Jongin sucks on the head, mouth giving a tight suction that’s sending him into overdrive. He’s already close. Kyungsoo grabs the younger by the head and puts him still as he starts to fuck him roughly in the mouth. He couldn’t tell if Jongin is moaning or crying, but the sight of the younger’s pleasure-stricken face; shower water and tears pooling in his eyes while drool and pre-cum gather around his lips is enough to take Kyungsoo to the edge. 

Kyungsoo comes with a grunt, cum landing all over Jongin’s face and on his neck. He’d let the latter touch himself this time, and after a few desperate tugs of his own aching cock Jongin is finally coming with a moan, spilling all over the walls and the floor.

“Did I do well?” Jongin looks up at him, breathless, the water already washing away remnants of the elder’s cum. It’s filthy and pretty at the same time. Kyungsoo feels like he could get hard all over again. 

“You’re always amazing,” is what he says, pecking the younger on the lips and helping him up to stand. They spend the next few minutes cleaning and laughing and kissing, and Kyungsoo wonders if he’s failing his own memory instead because the Jongin he knows now is the one he would like to always remember.

“They sell kimbap down at the convenience store?”

“Yeah. I got lucky because I was able to grab the last one.”

They’re having brunch in Kyungsoo’s small dining area, Korean food neatly filling the spaces of the amber table. The elder had cooked kimchi jjigae and egg rolls. Jongin hasn’t stopped complimenting his cooking since the moment they sat down, and Kyungsoo could only redden and chuckle in response. 

He’s offered the younger a new set of clothes, but Jongin had only insisted on a top that would discreetly cover the marks Kyungsoo left (he was blushing while saying this). 

Mornings in his apartment are never dull, but they haven’t been all exciting either. Kyungsoo always notices the small things, because they’re all that he has to be appreciative of while living in a foreign country-— the quiet break of dawn, the sound of bells on the bicycles passing by, the way the morning sunlight would kiss his plants warmly by the windows-— they are the little pieces that make up the whole of his daily sphere.

Then Jongin comes in the picture, insisting in a way Kyungsoo would never have expected, and messed up a point in the trajectory. He still considers the younger a part of those little things, because at the end of the day they’re still strangers who just happened to enjoy the sex, and because in retrospect Kyungsoo has been denied of the chance to make them something bigger.

The events of the past day come to him in fragments-— seeing Jongin, meeting Jongin, talking to Jongin, walking with Jongin, fucking Jongin. Yesterday is just a little fraction of all the days in Kyungsoo’s life, and this stranger named Jongin is just a grain from the sea of people he’s met over the passing years. Yet, Kyungsoo doesn’t how 24 hours could compel him to take the change in the trajectory forever.

He watches the said man from across the table, very much focused on eating and bringing every food to his plate. It’s amazing how Jongin could look as innocent as a 5 year old kid. Kyungsoo is glad that his old turtleneck fits the younger just fine, despite Jongin being obnoxiously taller and broader in frame. 

And because Kyungsoo will always be relentless, he thinks that if there’s any moment in time he could risk just to save whatever it is they have between them, it would be now.

“Jongin.”

The younger looks up from his food, still chewing. Kyungsoo notes how Jongin can easily look at him now, more comfortable and unguarded than yesterday.

“Yes?”

“How many more weeks til you go back to Seoul?”

Jongin ponders. “About 2? 3? Not sure. I’ll have to ask Jongdae later. My cousins have the whole schedule.”

Kyungsoo resolves on the information. He figures that he can at least build a friendship with Jongin while they’re still here in Shibuya. Seoul would have to be a faraway question for now. He doesn’t want to skip on stones without testing the encompassing current.

“Are you busy tomorrow night?”

“Why?” 

“Just wanted to invite you over for dinner, if that’s okay.” Kyungsoo holds his gaze.

There’s something in Jongin that falters, one that is so cursory it’s passed by just in time for Kyungsoo to finish a breath cycle. He catches it, however. Suddenly, Kyungsoo is being taken back to Bonjour Records, facing the memory of a long discarded Jongin who refused to touch his hand. He tries to push the recollection away, but it’s still there, even when present Jongin is right in front of him finishing the last roll of his kimbap.

After a few seconds of silence, Jongin gives his reply. “I’m sorry, Soo. I’m busy tomorrow.” His smile is apologetic. “Let’s try another day. I’m going to give you my number.”

Kyungsoo broods, but he nods anyway. He hopes this a good start-— Jongin giving him his number and dismissing him with a reason. There’s a concise resolution, at least. Kyungsoo relishes in knowing that he could already spare himself from looking and second guessing for answers.

Suddenly, Jongin’s phone starts to ring on the table. One look at the caller ID and the younger is already on his feet, picking up the bag that has his clothing from last night as he heads for the door. Kyungsoo meekly follows him, confused when he sees Jongin stopping by his desk and scribbling something. 

“I have to go, sorry I couldn’t help in cleaning.” Jongin tells him by the doorway. He grabs Kyungsoo and kisses him, firm and sweet, like leaving words behind that convey a multitude of meanings. Kyungsoo feels like he could melt.

“Thank you, Kyungsoo. I’ll see you.”

And with that, Jongin is gone, the emptiness of his apartment shrouding every corner until Kyungsoo could feel the loneliness again. He closes the door and heads back to the dining area to clean when he sees the note Jongin had left behind on his desk. Kyungsoo picks it up and sees what seemed to resemble a phone number in cute, clumsy handwriting with a little bear drawing underneath.

_Kim Woobin be damned, wherever he is_ , is what Kyungsoo thinks when he’s back in metropolitan Shibuya, standing in front of the same club they’ve been to last Friday night. 

The tall creature called after Kyungsoo’s class, talking about how the club management is constantly on his tail because he forgot to pay damage cost. Apparently, Woobin had broken a total of 5 cocktail glasses, 4 plates and 2 pitchers from his excessive table dancing, and while he’s already got the charges covered, the management still has a couple of ‘important’ papers for him to sign. Kyungsoo remembers rolling his eyes over the phone. _This_ is why he preferred living alone. He would be setting himself up having to deal with Woobin’s mess everyday, and he just doesn’t have the mental fortitude (and time) to commit to that.

The club is relatively calm on a weekday of course, just a few people going for after work drinks without the crowd and the pumped dancing. Signing papers should be easy, because Kyungsoo just wants to go home and end his day in complete solitude. He finally spots a concierge and asks her where the manager’s office is, and thankfully the person has been kind enough to escort him there.

After a brief point of Kyungsoo mustering up his most apologetic and most polite self, he comes out of the office feeling relieved. As he’s making his way towards the exit, Kyungsoo is suddenly hit by the thought of Jongin– how he looked the first time the elder had seen him, and the constant, unexplainable pull he’d instantly felt towards the younger. 

Naturally, everything around Kyungsoo would remind him of Jongin, because this place had been the point in the trajectory where everything conspicuously shifted. He still hasn’t texted the latter because of his hectic schedule the whole day, but Kyungsoo has already put up a mental note to do it first thing in the morning. Jongin had mentioned he would be busy today, anyway.

The strobe lights and the thumping bass bring a sense of strange familiarity. Kyungsoo doesn’t know how a club would suddenly make him nostalgic, but it did, and he’s bugged because he couldn’t shake off the weird feeling. It intensifies when the music bubbles down and they shift to another track; the very same song that’s been embedded in Kyungsoo’s mind since the first day, like a soundtrack as he copiously lives through his memories.

They say it’s easy to spot a red car when you’re always thinking of a red car, easy to spot negativity when you’re always having negative thoughts. Kyungsoo wonders if he’s been thinking of Jongin that much, because he sees the said man a few tables away, drinking and talking in the flesh.

In a flash, it’s Friday night all over again; the same hues of red and blue and green dancing on Jongin’s pretty features, the same group of men flocking with him. Except, now that Kyungsoo is seeing clearly, it’s actually just a _man_ , sitting too close to the younger, whispering and placing kisses on his neck. Jongin smiles and doesn’t even falter.

And because Kyungsoo is relentless, he stays rooted for a while longer. Maybe it’s the inevitable falling apart, though Kyungsoo doesn’t know what would actually fall apart between the two of them. He hasn’t really built anything with Jongin other than a 24 hours’ worth of fleeting memories. It’s agonizing, but Kyungsoo couldn’t look away. He wonders if Jongin has ever looked this bright and carefree over the short time he was with Kyungsoo. He couldn’t look away, not especially now, when Jongin finally catches his gaze and looks right back at him.

It is the same Jongin-— Jongin from the record shop, Jongin from the library and the coffee shop downstairs, Jongin from the restobar. Aloof, distant, closed off. Apart from that, Kyungsoo couldn’t see the Jongin on his bed, the Jongin in his shower, or the Jongin in his kitchen. The man that is looking at him now is the same stranger he’ll always end up remembering a few years down the road. There is recognition in Jongin’s eyes, but not a single ounce of warmth. 

Jongin looks away without a single word, and Kyungsoo takes it as a sign to move along. _He’s busy_. Every step feels like walking on coaled ground, every inch away from the younger a second close to gasping for much needed air. It gets worse when the music heightens and Kyungsoo hears the same melancholic beat; the same melody, the same ache ringing in his chest.

_  
I'm just playing games  
I know that's plastic love  
Dance to the plastic beat  
Another morning comes  
_

**Author's Note:**

> If u know the song, u know ;;;
> 
> I actually considered writing an epilogue for this (Jongin centered), but it's still a faraway thought... Hope the lovely readers enjoyed!
> 
> A/N: Back in 2017/2018/i kinda forgot lmao Jongin mentioned in an interview that his favorite place in Japan is the streets of Bonjour Records in Daikanyama... thought it would be nice to incorporate it since the fic is based off of a Japanese city pop song ^^


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